


In a Matter of Seven Days

by Kilgrave (I_Am_Darkness)



Category: Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Basically Gideon being Gideon, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, F/M, Sad Ending, Toxic Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:40:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25190260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Darkness/pseuds/Kilgrave
Summary: What would happen if Gideon killed Scott and Knives in the final battle? There are no extra lives for Scott anymore and Ramona is completely at Gideon's mercy. This story is how I imagine things would go down.
Relationships: Ramona Flowers/Gideon Graves, Ramona Flowers/Scott Pilgrim
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	In a Matter of Seven Days

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quickclarification before you start reading: The title is more of a metaphor, so basically I've organised the events of the story in seven different stages according to the changes in Ramona's life with Gideon. Realistcally, this story lasts more or less a couple of years.

On the first day, the Power of Love dies and with it Ramona's only chance to find a happy, healthy relationship. The puppet strings she fought so hard to rip from her mind are wrapping around her again, tighter than ever.

She betrayed the only person who loved her because she couldn't find the power to kill the one who tormented her. An intense churn of emotions takes over her mind and renders her motionless, but regret is prominent among the swirling buzz as Gideon drags her viciously by the arm, enraged and impatient.

His victory against Scott and Knives healed his wounds while he left Ramona drained and almost lifeless at the side of his throne. He ordered for the music to continue. Very few knew of Scott Pilgrim and the grand opening night of Chaos Theatre continued with the additional thrill of a battle's aftermanth lingering in the minds of the attendants, who had been given a show beyond what they'd paid for.

Scott Pilgrim's coin pile remained untouched, waiting to give to be given to the band as payment for their service tonight. Gideon always excelled at cruelty; even the close proximity of the pile from where Ramona sat was taunting her with the reminder that she could see but not touch, remember but not mourn and only cry dry tears.

Ramona had managed to pick one little coin from her dead boyfriend's remains before Gideon had dragged her away; it was a reminder that she placed in her heart both figuratively in the way she silently promised to remember him and and literally in the way she hid it within her bra, right where her heart hammered against her ribcage. Part of her loved him but she wasn't confident enough to trust her feelings and earn its power. She blamed herself, yet felt a painful need for comfort which she couldn't seek from Gideon Graves. He was never one to provide it, but now that she'd betrayed him earlier in the fight and nearly got him killed with her ministrations, it was only bound to be far worse to live with him.

Ramona's gaze is one with the steps beneath her; she dared not display anything that could be considered defiance, even if it was to briefly glance at him while he kept a glaring eye at her. Meanwhile, the chattering buzz began again in the crowd.

The dull ache lingers in his groin even after his wounds are healed and the crack in his favourite glasses is ever-intrusive in his observation of Chaos Theatre from his opulent-looking chair- no, _throne_. He blames Ramona for both pain and inconvenience, just as he'd blamed her for every single choice he'd made upon their break-up.

For the rest of the night, Gideon distracts himself with the music and seeks the sadistic pleasure of observing the grief in each band member's eyes. They all quietly mourn Scott and he makes sure to prolong the event and have them play regardless of their intense emotional and physical exhaustion. Payback for siding with Pilgrim when he'd been so kind as to invite them here to play; an opportunity for which most would kill.

The ginger drummer, _Kimberly_ , as he called her instead of Kim, had angered him the most; so much for having his teeth kicked in by that little nerd. Her fiery defiance glinted despite the pain of loss and she mainted her glaring eyes at his smug expression.

Neither of them relented in this subtle battle.

He doesn't touch Ramona at all, though he knows she needs it after what she went through. Normally, his hand would trail down her hair and, on rare occasions, he'd take a moment to appreciate that lovely face of hers with a soft yet arrogant smile.

This time, however, she is invisible in his eyes- a lifeless ornament to embellish his throne- despite all he did to bring her where she belongs. Where _he thinks_ she belongs.

Part of her thinks so too, the rest of her is silent.

But, eventually, the event is over and the guests are gone. Plastic cups, crumbs, spilled drinks, and all sorts of little things are scattered along the floors of the expensive establishment, but this mess is merely an indicator of how enjoyable their stay here was. Gideon is proud but he doesn't smile.

The cleaners will get to it, he thinks, and with that thought he stands victorious from his throne.

He imitates the posture of a monarch with an arrogance to match, but this time the queen is not at the side of the king; she lays weak at his feet instead and he doesn't consider that conspicuous difference when he equates himself to a king in his professional environment.

Ramona has yet to get up and his eyes trail to her crumpled form with an icy glare. One glance is enough to erupt fearful horripilation along her skin but he barely notices the shiver or the erected hairs on her alabaster skin. Empathy isn't there to melt the cold indifference.

She can't bear the look in his eyes; the coldness of the floor beneath her is more welcoming, but Gideon interprets her grief as defiance. Anger flares again and the cold suddenly evaporates; Gideon momentarily forsakes his plastered regal composure and shamelessly grabs a fistful of her hair by which he drags her towards him, ordering her to stand up and face him. His voice holds an unusual rasp that she's heard only in his worst moments, but never before had he been this violent.

This time, her intuition foresees the pain she will endure with him.

And submits to him regardless.

She has no one else now and her own mind is a far worse companion than an abusive boyfriend - _this is what Gideon is now, right?_

The word seems ridiculously inaccurate for what he is to her, but he is all she has now. The realisation settles amidst the pain of his manhandling that she is afraid of herself; she is afraid of being alone, to the point she'll accept this.

The part of her that belongs to him is reliving the familiar thrill of being with him, while the rest is still silent.

  
Reluctant footsteps barely make a sound as she trails behind him, not beside him, and his hand doen't hold hers.

Sharp pain still pounds up her head but the tears are of self-blame. Scott would still be alive if she hadn't stumbled into his life. Desperate as she was to be in control of her own decisions again, she ignored the danger of dragging someone else into this mess, especially someone as kind as Scott.

Not many would have fought for her, even less would have come this far, and as it seems none could ever win.

Try as she may, she cannot bring herself to hate Gideon. None of this would have happened if she'd ignored Scott's idle flirting, or if she'd talked to Gideon earlier instead of vanishing into Subspace. She could have resolved this; the defiant spark in her which Gideon so deeply admired was still intact and she had once wanted him enough to fix things.

But she didn't.

She ran away and created this mess and she couldn't blame the man who tormented her and sought to control her life.

She should feel something; he pushed her away only to gnaw at her mind so that she'd return, all this for reasons yet unknown to her since there was no way she'd ever believe he loved her or that he couldn't find someone better than her; yet this deep-seated hatred that bears a need for vengeance isn't there. Nothing really is there instead of that heavy, lumbering guilt.

She is revolted by having to force herself to hate him instead of doing it naturally; this drains what little energy she has left.

Ramona digs deeper into her thoughts as she faithfully follows him. He'd mockingly spoken of her obsession for him some time ago, yet his corrupted infatuation vastly outmatched hers; creating a league through which to present her as a heartless monster, blameworthy for every heartbreak her exes had felt and every misfortune that followed them afterwards.

He must have enjoyed demonising her to her exes. She'd exposed all her weaknesses to him and handed him control of her mind and body on a silver platter; all of this in hopes to earn his trust because if she earned his trust then he'd open up to her and offer that little shrivel of attention she so desperately sought.

But he used that all against her.

She should want him to suffer, and for a moment she did during the fight, but whatever courage Scott had inspired was gone when he exploded into coins right before her eyes. She can't feel anything but this constant dull ache.

She can't enjoy Gideon's pain in the slightest anymore. Even the sight of the cut on his cheek inspires this surge of misplaced empathy because in that moment she needs to care for someone. It comforts her to provide that, she's always been a giver and Gideon has been a taker, but now he gives her a warning glare when she gets too close. Touching him will be met with a bruise and so she keeps a safe distance.

How strange it was...there was no such empathy back when Scott and Knives were battering him right before her eyes. Whatever triggered it must have happened after their deaths; Ramona bitterly reminds herself that Knives is dead too because of her and it adds to the already strong ache she's feeling.

The night is cycling on; the few visible stars are dull and the moon isn't there. Even the wind is quiet, but it still finds its way to carry around the cold and sprinkle it along her exposed skin. She'd left her leather jacket in her car when they arrived at Chaos Theatre and although Gideon wore a two-piece suit with a t-shirt underneath (she'd seen him getting dressed before coming here), he still doesn't give her his jacket.

It's torn.

He often glances her way and sees her arms folded in a futile attempt to shield herself from the chill of night. Her shoulders are tense and high to cover her exposed neck and the tremble of her frail body at the first audible breeze is too visible to be ignored.

Gideon still doesn't provide any warmth; it would indicate an affection that he doesn't want to give. Not yet, at least, not for the foreseeable future until she is punished effectively and learns not to oppose and betray him.

Besides, the parking place is right ahead and it takes only a few minutes more to reach it. The night-shift worker greets him with a tired smile but ignores Ramona.

The ride home is silent save the sound of the engine. Gideon isn't the one driving and this makes her all the more uneasy. He sits right beside her, resting his head back against the seat while his eyes have eased their gaze on the world outside. He appears thoughtful, too calm for comfort, and Ramona wonders what goes on in that jaded mind of his.

Fingers tap on his thigh and he cannot hold back the vulnerable display of taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. A quiet sigh of concealed frustration follows. His movements speak of exhaustion but not only physical; Ramona knows and empathises but Gideon spares himself the embarrassment of giving in to that pesky little desire of pulling her into his arms.

It had been a teasing thought while she was away; to cuddle in the backseat and bask in that needy stare of hers while they are driven home...but the current circumstances allow no such thing.

This dissolved expression solidifies into a calm stare again and his glasses are right back on the bridge of his nose with a little nudge of adjustment from one digit. It looks elegant.

He is rarely ever seen without glasses and he's handsome regardless.

"Stop staring at me." He commands in an uncharacteristically calm tone and only then does she realise she's had her eyes practically glued on him. Even her body posture had shifted slightly to face him and now she's bright with embarrassment and quickly turns away with an incoherently muttered apology.

It doesn't suffice.

Even the hot water in the shower feels cold, as if its warmth evaporates the moment it touches her skin and she desperately needs more while being unable to step outside.

She grows dependent on the fleeting warmth and persistently keeps the water running on her flushed skin even after all the bodywash was cleaned off. The mirror and the small window are foggy but the hot steam feels somewhat comforting.

Still, it doesn't suffice to truly comfort her and she knows Gideon will have a fit if she'd not out quickly enough.

The splashing ceases with a movement of her hand on the faucet and the sound is reduced to soft dripping as she steps out and clumsily wraps a blue towel arund her frame. She holds it close in an almost protective grip because this towel is the first thing to embrace her after the loss of what could have been her best relationship.

As she approaches the bedroom, Ramona begins to understand why some children grow dependent on their blankets. This towel feels like a comfort blanket and she doesn't want to take it off but she has no choice. She never does.

Eventually, she finds the strength to dress herself in this particularly revealing black night gown that he's left there for her. She misses her fluffy pyjamas and it makes no sense for her to wear this since Gideon won't touch her either way. Part of the punishment, but the worst is yet to come.

It takes everything in her to fall asleep, feeling so small in this large bed alone. They are supposed to share it but she never sees or feels his presence. Ramona falls asleep and wakes up alone.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a sequel.


End file.
